


Sin, Sanctity and Sentiment

by Galadriel



Category: X/1999
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon - Movie, Embedded Images, Gen, Illustrated, Insanity, Memories, Movie Spoilers, POV First Person, Prophecy, Prophets, Religion, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-01-04
Updated: 2001-01-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/Galadriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuuma looks down on the city from the Tokyo Tower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin, Sanctity and Sentiment

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points for spotting the quotes from _Revelations_. Many thanks to m0use for her lovely illustration.
> 
> (Originally written for _Appendix A: The Anime Alberta 2001 Fanfiction Collection_.)

Blood.

Blood thrums through my veins and thunders through my head.

Blood washes away all. Sin, sanctity, sentiment; each bleeds into the others after the shallowest nick. Flesh peels away so easily, leaving bare fluidity trembling for my touch.

I am Kamui. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending. I am the hand of God, the hand against God. I bring salvation through annihilation. I am judge, jury and executioner. My fire will cleanse the earth and my blood will drown innocent and debaucher alike.

But the molten flames that course through my body are not my own. My spirit sings through another's nerves, the echoes thrumming back through empty space.

The harsh night wind whips at my flesh. This high up the cold cuts straight through skin and wraps itself around sinew. Nuts, bolts and alloys; nothing bleeds up here. The metal slides easily under my palms, the rust-red steel girders supporting the weight of my body. After the living and breathing are gone, this place will remain. I will make sure of it. A rod of iron to rule over a desolate land.

I feel a small pinch as a bolt catches and cuts a thin line across my palm. The brief pain is sweet. My hand lingers, travelling slowly to the blade that hangs from my hip. It keens as my blood trickles down its shining edge.

The girl served her purpose, the purpose she was born to fulfill. She provided me with my sword, the blade that lay dormant inside her unknowing body. The Lamb is slaughtered. Her blood was spilled as the sacrifice which began within spread without. She saw many things, the burgeoning prophetess, but did she see her own death? Even dreaming minds close against their own demise. She was only the first offering to the winepress of blood, bone and pulp that lies in wait just behind my eyes.

And the Seer... the Liar... She is done. She touched the Word of God and was burned by the fires of conviction. In her I found the blood of prophets, and of saints, and of all that will be slain upon the earth. She tried to shape what could not be held, and for that she will dream no more. Her minions, my flock of carrion-eaters, were so easily crushed. How could they exempt themselves from the cleansing that is to come? Not even God is exempt.

I am Kamui. And I am not exempt.

He approaches. My twin... my mirror... We reflect one another. Always and forever the same, forever opposites. I understand all; he understands nothing.

The skeleton under my feet groans as my twin lands just out of arm's reach. He cocks his head, his shoulders hunching as he turns toward me. Some faint, dying part of me wonders what invisible strings pull at his limbs. The pain in his eyes draws a bubble of hysterical laughter from that same deadened part of me. It's easily quashed as I wait, swaying gently in the gusts of air buffeting the cloak that clings and billows around my uniform. Does he wonder what I've done to his carrion-crowd?

I can smell his confusion leeching out in his sweat. He pauses, fumbling for the right phrase, the right sentiment to bring this house of meat, metal and cards tumbling to the ground. He underestimates so very much.

Alien letters bead and drip from his lips, perfectly forming a name long since dead.

"...Fuuma..."

No. I am Kamui. It has begun.


End file.
